


the kids are alright

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, i think technically they're flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:57:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “I just wanna know why you act like you wanna fuck me, is all.”“Gee,” Thomas says sarcastically, taking a sip of water. “I wonder.”
Relationships: Thomas Chabot/Brady Tkachuk
Comments: 16
Kudos: 234





	the kids are alright

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> not proofread in the slightest.

“You know,” Brady says, sometime towards the end of the start of what’s looking to be another not-great season, “if you acted the way you do with me with anyone else, they might think you wanna fuck them.”

Thomas snorts. “That did not make any sense.”

“I’m saying that you’re a flirt,” Brady says. “And you’re extra flirty with me.”

“Okay?” Thomas says. He doesn’t get why Brady’s saying this like it’s a revelation. 

“So,” Brady says. “What gives?”

Brady is sprawled across one of Thomas’ chairs in a way that makes it seem like he’s never actually sat in a chair before, and his current position is just a shot in the dark guess at how they’re supposed to work. He does this when he’s pretending to be drunker than he is, but Thomas doesn’t call him out on it.

“I dunno,” Thomas says. “I can stop, if you want.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to stop,” Brady says. “I just wanna know why you act like you wanna fuck me, is all.”

“Gee,” Thomas says sarcastically, taking a sip of water. “I wonder.”

……

Brady’s a funny guy, a sense of humor clearly born of a thousand insecurities, but Thomas isn’t a therapist, so he’s just gonna focus on hockey.

“You know,” Brady says, while they’re both buttass naked in the shower and surrounded by their teammates, “that joke you made the other night was actually really funny.”

Thomas gets the sense that Brady thinks he’s being subtle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says bluntly. He sees Colin turn towards them, clearly intrigued by their conversation, and he’s almost worried, before he remembers that he doesn’t actually care about Colin’s opinions on this, or on anything. 

“The joke you made about wanting to— y’know,” Brady says, waggling his eyebrows. “Man, that shit was hilarious.”

Thomas continues to ignore Colin, who’s also doing some weird eyebrow dance. “If this is your way of asking if I want to talk more about that, then I’d prefer to do that…” Thomas glances around, sees more teammates unsubtly looking over their shoulders. “… literally anywhere else.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Brady says, a little defensive. “I’m just saying, it was funny.”

Thomas is pretty sure that he knows what Brady’s game is here, and he very much doesn’t want to play. 

“Glad you think I’m funny, then,” he says, his voice nonchalant. “I’m going to wash my hair now.”

“You should, it’s gross,” Brady says.

Thomas doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he gives Brady a long look up, down and then up. It’s a look he’s perfected with time, and Brady’s so tall, which means Thomas has so  _ much  _ to look at. 

“Enjoy your shower,” Thomas says, and he smirks when he sees that Brady’s blushing. 

He’s more than a little proud of how he handles it.

……

“Hey, so, if you get a call from my brother, don’t answer,” Brady says, in lieu of a usual greeting, when Thomas picks up the phone. 

He blinks. “I… don’t think I have your brother’s number.”

This doesn’t appear to phase Brady. “Well, if it’s from a St. Louis area code, just ignore it.”

“You’re calling from a St. Louis area code,” Thomas points out, mostly to be a dick.

“That doesn’t count,” Brady says, which, no shit. “If you want, I can give you his number so you’ll know to not pick up.”

“I don’t really pick up my phone, so I think I’ll be fine,” Thomas says. 

“You picked up this phone call,” Brady points out.

“Doesn’t count,” Thomas says.

“Does that mean I’m special?”

Thomas smirks, then realizes Brady can’t see. “Something like that,” he says, taking care to make sure his voice is more amused than anything else. “Who gave your brother my phone number?”

“Colin, I think,” Brady says.

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Fuck Colin.”

“I appreciate the suggestion, but he’s not really my type.”

“What is your type, then?” Thomas asks. Over the phone he can’t see Brady blush, but imagining it is still worth it.

“Who knows,” Brady says. “Maybe it’s Canadian assholes who flirt with me for no good reason.”

“You don’t know that I don’t have a reason,” Thomas says.

“You don’t know that I’m talking about you,” Brady shoots back.

For a second, Thomas is deeply, genuinely embarrassed, like there’s some chance Brady’s being serious, and Thomas miscalculated this whole thing. But then the rational part of his brain kicks in, reminds him that he doesn’t miscalculate, and that he needs to come up with a snappy comeback, because that’s their game, and Thomas can’t lose.

“So I’m not your type, then?”

“That’s not what I said,” Brady says, and then he sort of sputters, and Thomas feels the ground underneath his feet leveling out.

…… 

Thomas is a flirt, but he’s subtle about it— small comments, long looks, a carefully schooled smile that he can use in addition to his natural, nice-looking-because-it’s-a-smile-but-otherwise-kinda-gnarly smile. He flirts easily and intentionally, aware of when he’s trying to impress someone, always honest, but a controlled honesty.

Brady, on the other hand— his flirting is as refined as the rest of him, which is to say: not at all. He’s clumsy and obvious, and it would maybe be embarrassing on anyone else, but on Brady, it just makes sense. 

It’s— there’s lots of touching involved. Brady’s a touchy-feely guy most days, though, and when he’s flirting, he apparently just… does more of that. It’s not at all elegant, but it’s genuine, and it does a good job at making Thomas feel wanted, so. 

“Dude,” Colin says, “Chucky’s been all over you lately.” 

“Really,” Thomas says dryly. “I had no idea.” 

Colin gives him a confused look. 

“I’m being sarcastic,” Thomas says. 

Colin’s face clears up. “Oh, okay,” he says. “So, what gives?” 

Thomas shrugs. “It’s fun.” 

“Does that mean you’re banging?”

“Nah,” Thomas says. “Not yet.” 

Colin snorts. “That’s presumptuous.” 

“Fancy word,” Thomas says. “Did that get you into college?” 

“Did it get you into Brady’s pants?” 

It’s an irritatingly clever comeback, which isn’t fair, because Colin is not an irritatingly clever person. 

“I’m working on it,” Thomas says.

“You’re  _ working  _ to hook up with someone?” Colin says. “You’re doing something besides pretending you don’t give a shit about them?”

“I don’t do that,” Thomas says, because when Colin says it, it sounds kind of like a dick move, and Thomas prefers to think of it as more of a general vibe. Plus, the whole ‘cool indifference’ thing isn’t really effective once you admit that you’re aware of it. 

“It’s just weird,” Colin says. “You and Chucky.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” Thomas says, and then, “Nothing’s happened.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Thomas agrees. “So it’s not weird,  _ yet _ .”

“Actually, it’s very weird already,” Colin says. “It’s like… ‘get a room’ weird. I think it’ll be less weird once you guys actually do it.” 

“Is this you giving me your blessing to suck his dick?” 

“Or get your dick sucked by him,” Colin says. “Whatever you two wanna get up to. Just please do something, you guys are, like, on the verge of naked wrestling in the middle of the locker room.” 

“What’s wrong with naked wrestling?” 

“Nothing, as long as I don’t have to see it,” Colin says. “Work your shit out, man.” 

Thomas doesn’t like to be told what to do, but he does like Brady, and that’s apparently enough to outweigh his desire to keep being weird with him just to spite Colin. 

…… 

It’s Halloween, and all Thomas can see is Brady’s legs. 

Thomas is wearing a full jumpsuit, head to toe in polyester, and he’s wishing he’d worn a nicer shirt underneath, because it’s absolutely too hot. No one really talks about the practicality of costumes that show a lot of skin: when you’re out and drinking and dancing with a bunch of large, energetic men, you tend to overheat.

Brady is in the shortest shorts Thomas has ever seen, and Thomas feels like he needs to get out of his clothes. 

Because Brady’s clinging to him, literally hanging off his body. He’s too big to cling like this, and Thomas is having a hard time balancing. It’s kind of like when you go over to someone’s house, and their golden retriever comes over to say hello, but accidentally ends up knocking you over in enthusiasm. Brady’s pretty much as close to a golden retriever as a human can be, actually. 

Maybe that explains why Thomas is having a good time, right now. Maybe it explains why he keeps playing this game of chicken they’ve had going for a few weeks, even though it’s objectively ridiculous, and even though he’s long since accepted that he’s going to be the one to lose.

“We should go back to my place,” Thomas says absently.

Brady sort of startles, which results in him stepping on Thomas’ toe, but Thomas refuses to say ‘ow.’ 

“Sorry, sorry,” Brady says, not quite letting go of Thomas, but still not standing quite as close as he was. “Um. What did you say?”

“We should go back to my place,” Thomas says. “Or yours. I’m not picky.”

“Why?” Brady asks, sounding genuinely, sincerely confused. 

Thomas just raises an eyebrow at him in response.

“Alright, fine, don’t tell me,” Brady says. Thomas might be imagining it, but he’s pretty sure his cheeks are a little pink. 

“Whatever you’re thinking is probably right,” Thomas says. 

“You don’t know what I’m thinking. You’re not a mind reader,” Brady says. “Wait— you’re not a mind reader, right?” 

“Eh,” Thomas says. 

“That’s not a no.” 

Thomas shrugs. 

“Chabs,” Brady says. “I’m really begging you here, please tell me you’re not a mind reader.” 

“Fine, I’m not a mind reader,” Thomas says. 

“Well, now I don’t know if I can believe you.” 

“If I could read minds, my life would be a lot easier, trust me,” Thomas says. “I’m not a mind reader, and you’re bad at changing the subject.” 

“I’m not changing the subject,” Brady protests. “It’s relevant. I don’t want to go into a room with a mind reader.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to my place, we don’t have to,” Thomas says. 

“I didn’t say that,” Brady says, just like Thomas knew he would, which is a sign that this game has been going on far too long. 

…… 

“I still don’t get it,” Brady says, which is a little rude, considering it’s the first thing he says after Thomas kisses him. In fact, he cuts off the kiss  _ just  _ to say that, and Thomas’ ego doesn’t love it. 

“You’re absolutely impossible,” Thomas says.

“How am I impossible? You’re the one being cryptic.”

Thomas doesn’t think a kiss is cryptic. He thinks a kiss is actually fairly direct, as far as methods of communication go.

“I would like to hook up with you. I’m pretty sure you would like to hook up with me. Do you want to hook up?”

“Well, duh,” Brady says. “You’ve just been acting like it’s a joke.” 

“Not really,” Thomas says. 

“Kind of.”

Thomas considers this. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of like a joke, but instead of a punchline, we have sex.” 

“But you’re serious about the sex.” 

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “That part’s for real.” 

He really hopes they don’t have to keep talking about this. If they do, Thomas might have to say something earnest, and that seems sort of pointless, now that they’ve clearly established that they both want to have sex with each other. 

“Cool,” Brady says, giving him an easy shrug, and then they’re making out again, thank  _ god.  _

…… 

Thomas is planning to rock Brady’s world. 

He knows he’s capable of it. He likes having sex, and that means the sex he has is usually pretty good— which is something he’s proud of, sure, but is also not really an objective skill. Most of the time, his communication skills aren’t great, but when it comes to sex, they’re off the fucking charts. 

Weird flex? Maybe. But Thomas doesn’t care about bragging, he just cares about feeling good, making other people feel good, and having good sex. 

So he and Brady get to his place, and he’s thinking,  _ Y’know, I’m kind of in the mood to suck a dick tonight. _ Brady’s got him pressed up against the wall—which is, like, pretty hot—and Thomas can feel that he’s starting to get hard. 

Natural next step: reach down and cup his dick through his shorts, run a thumb gently along the outline of it. Brady shivers, which is exactly what Thomas is hoping for, and also, exactly what he expects. 

He starts kissing Brady’s neck, which goes really well; Brady is super responsive, makes all sorts of satisfied noises that Thomas is super into, and he turns red so easily. He’s already rocking beard burn and tiny marks from where Thomas had decided to experimentally run his teeth over the exposed skin. 

But then he starts to get lower—the obvious move—and Brady’s like, “Wait.”

Thomas stops. 

“I wanted to,” Brady says. 

It takes Thomas a second to realize what Brady means. 

And then. He nods. He’d be down to do anything Brady wanted, but he’s especially down with  _ that _ . 

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly feeling a little breathless. For the first time ever, he likes to think. He’s a fan of his composure.

“Sweet,” Brady says, and then he has the audacity to give Thomas a cocky smile before dropping to his knees.

…… 

So, it turns out that Thomas’ world is the one getting rocked tonight. Life comes at you fast. 

“It’s almost annoying how good you are at that,” Thomas says. 

Brady looks up at him, his eyes shining through his lashes; his lips are wrapped around Thomas’s dick, and his face is flushed. The whole picture is absolutely obscene, and it makes Thomas feel a little smug— like, yeah, this was a  _ good  _ fucking idea.

“That was a compliment,” Thomas says. “Keep going.”

Brady, much to Thomas’s annoyance, does not keep going. He sits back on his heels, wipes his mouth, and says, matter-of-factly, “what’s the magic word?”

Thomas rolls his eyes harder than he’s ever rolled them in his entire life. “Keep going,  _ please.”  _

Brady gives Thomas his signature smirk, and gets back to it.

……

Obviously Brady’s dick is huge. Thomas could have told you that before he’d ever seen Brady naked. 

And obviously, Brady is really mouthy when he’s getting sucked off. 

It’s not a bad thing. Thomas appreciates specific instructions; now that he’s already come really fucking hard, he’s not actually in the mood to tease or take his time, and Brady’s not in the mood to be teased or take his time. It works. 

Brady says “tighter—not that tight—now deeper, if you can?—oh, yeah, you really ca—jesus  _ fuck,  _ Chabby, that’s—” and such like, and then he comes, and then he and Thomas share a very sincere fist bump to celebrate a job well done. 

…… 

“So,” Brady says, sprawled our across Thomas’s bed after all’s said and done. He’s a sprawling cuddler, apparently, or maybe just a sprawling person in general. “You know we could’ve done that weeks ago. All you had to do was ask.”

Thomas shrugs. “What would’ve been the fun in that?”

Brady gives him an unimpressed look. “The sex,” he says. “The sex would’ve been the fun part.”

“Okay, well,” Thomas says. “We got there eventually.” 

“We missed out on weeks where we could’ve been having sex.” 

“You didn’t ask me, either,” Thomas points out. 

“Well, yeah, but I’m a massive hypocrite,” Brady says. “Plus, I didn’t feel like it.” 

“Cute,” Thomas says. 

Brady scoffs. “Fuck off.” 

“Fuck  _ you.”  _

“That an offer?” Brady asks, smirking. 

Thomas rolls his eyes, then rolls them over and pins Brady onto the bed, because it is an offer. A request, even. 

**Author's Note:**

> thomas:
> 
> not gonna lie i'm sad because my wallet got stolen earlier :(


End file.
